


Forgetting

by velocitygrass



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-10
Updated: 2007-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flashes of memories shot through him, of hard floors in dark corridors, closets, restrooms, when he didn't have to be an Air Force officer for a while and was just a hole to fuck into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Atlantis Slash D/s Comment-athon!](http://lawpup.livejournal.com/38391.html?thread=161271#t161271)
> 
> The deaths are Lorne and six unnamed marines.

John stumbled into the shower, tearing off his uniform. Blood seemed to be everywhere and he just needed it off, off, off.

The hot spray washed away the red, but nothing could stop the images in his mind.

He scrubbed himself clean and then quickly dried himself off and put on some clothes.

Six marines and Lorne dead. John tried to calm down, to keep it together as the commanding officer of Atlantis should. He'd managed it through the briefing and a check up in the infirmary, but now that no one was looking up to him, he just wanted to crawl into himself and cry.

The door chimed and John couldn't believe that anyone would disturb him now.

He waited for a moment, but there it was again and he took a deep breath and stormed to the door.

It was McKay.

"What do you want?" John asked harshly, because there was nothing short of an attack on Atlantis that would justify disturbing him now.

McKay recoiled, but then stuck out his chin in the way that meant he was going to be stubborn.

John really didn't need that now. "I'd like to be alone right now," he said, trying to stay polite.

"I don't think you should."

"I don't care what you think!" John shouted right in McKay's face.

This time McKay didn't flinch. "See?"

John exhaled and looked away. He rubbed his eyes and went back into his room. Rodney followed him. Of course he did.

"Rodney, please," John said, begging now.

"It's not your fault."

And God. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Carter and Ronon and now Rodney telling him what he already knew, but it didn't change the fucking fact that his highest ranking officer had bled to death in his fucking arms.

"That doesn't make it better!"

"I..." Rodney began, unsure now, and John just wished he would leave already. But his mouth just curved downward unhappily and then he took a step towards John and then another and then he lifted his hands and John stared in horror, because this couldn't be happening.

"No," he mumbled turning away from Rodney's arms, but they still enfolded him, surprisingly strong now.

Nothing short of shoving Rodney away _hard_ would get him out of this and he didn't want to hurt Rodney. He just wanted to forget.

But he couldn't take this hug. He was responsible for these men and women and even if he couldn't have done anything differently they had died under _his_ command.

He turned to the other side and seeing no other way, finally dropped to his knees, to escape Rodney and because he simply couldn't stand it any longer.

Rodney's hands tried to hold him up and when they couldn't, he actually moved down to kneel next to John.

John couldn't allow that. He wrapped his arms around Rodney's legs tightly, stopping him.

Rodney put his hands on his shoulders, then petted John's head.

John just held on to his legs and pressed his face into Rodney's stomach.

He wouldn't cry. The fact that he was on his knees in front of Rodney was proof that he had lost all control over the situation, but he held onto that last bit of sanity. He couldn't let himself go completely.

Even though right now there was nothing that he wanted to do more. He wanted to forget where and who he was. He just wanted to feel anything but the helpless grief of pointless loss.

He wanted to stop thinking.

Flashes of memories shot through him, of hard floors in dark corridors, closets, restrooms, when he didn't have to be an Air Force officer for a while and was just a hole to fuck into.

He sat back a bit, so that his face slowly wandered from Rodney's stomach to Rodney's crotch.

John knew that he was crazy doing this. Rodney would never... and John couldn't ask this of him, but for just a second he wanted to imagine the feeling. He slightly opened his mouth and exhaled, trying to picture Rodney pushing his cock deep inside.

God, it would be so good.

"You should..."

Rodney shifted uncomfortably and John could feel the pants against his mouth tenting behind the fly. He froze.

"I'm so sorry," Rodney said, and he obviously meant it.

John wasn't sorry.

If he hadn't already been on his knees, this would have done it. Rodney tried to move away, but John pulled him back forcefully.

He wanted to look up at Rodney. He wanted to say "Take me", with his eyes if not in words, but he was too afraid that if he did that, it might appear like asking for permission, and he couldn't do that. Because asking for permission meant it could be denied and John couldn't let that happen.

He parted his lips further and began mouthing Rodney's cock through his pants.

"What...?"

John's answer was to move one hand to Rodney's fly to open the buttons. The other hand kept a firm grip on Rodney. John wouldn't let him get away under any circumstances.

When Rodney thrust helplessly into John's hand as he extracted him from his boxer shorts, John smiled. And then Rodney's cock was right in front of him. He licked his lips and then after a quick kiss to the head took the cock in right to the root.

"Oh God!"

John wanted to say that God had nothing to do with this, but truthfully he wasn't so sure about that, and either way talking meant he'd have to let Rodney's cock out of his mouth and he wasn't planning on doing that anytime soon.

Rodney pulled out a bit, but John only let him go so far before pushing back down on him until he could feel Rodney in his throat.

Rodney put his hands on John's head, carefully touching him.

"Shhh. I don't want to..."

But John wanted him, no _needed_ him to. To fuck him, to choke him, to _own_ him.

He gripped Rodney's hips hard with both hands and pushed him forward into John's mouth, trying to establish the rhythm that he so desperately needed.

"John, I..."

John hummed around Rodney's cock, both as stimulation and a sign that he wasn't going to discuss this.

There was a moment of silence and then a groan and finally Rodney pushed into him.

John gave an answering groan, easing the grip of his hands on Rodney's hips.

Rodney thrust into him, breathing heavily and for a moment John let go completely and shut down his mind. However, that meant that he didn't concentrate on breathing and suddenly he choked, coughing around Rodney's cock. Rodney wanted to pull out and John had to fight to keep him inside. He only let him out enough to take a few breaths and then he went down on Rodney again.

"John, I don't want to hurt you."

John groaned loudly and desperately around the head of Rodney's cock. He looked up at Rodney, pleading with him to continue.

"Okay," Rodney said quickly and started thrusting again, carefully, far too carefully.

John tightened his grip on Rodney's hips and forced him down his throat again and again until Rodney relented and did it himself.

John let his hands drop and crossed them behind his back.

Rodney held his head more firmly and fucked his mouth with hard, deep strokes. John moaned his approval.

Every thrust meant redemption, meant peace, meant he was worth something to someone, even if it was just a hole to fuck.

"Oh God, I'm going to—"

Before Rodney could pull away and not thrust back into him, John's hands shot up and around Rodney. His arms enfolded Rodney forcefully and he relaxed his throat waiting for Rodney to come.

With a groan and a shudder he did, shooting his load inside John's mouth, his hands gripping John's head.

John couldn't breathe, but he held onto Rodney, tasting every drop, feeling every contraction. Just feeling.

And then he was almost ready to black out and his grip on Rodney weakened. Rodney pulled away and John let him slide out, completely dazed.

His eyes were shut and he sat down on his heels, not thinking, not seeing, not letting the world intrude just yet into the perfect calm of this moment.

Eventually he felt Rodney's hand on him, helping him keep upright. He blinked twice, opened his eyes and looked up to see Rodney staring down at him.

"I..." Rodney began. Then he shook himself. "I should do something for you," and he bowed to reach down. John noticed that his dick had been tucked back into his pants. When John looked down to his own pants where Rodney was reaching he saw a wet spot.

He couldn't even remember coming.

"It's all right," John said a bit breathlessly. Then he looked up at Rodney. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rodney said nervously. "Any time. I mean—" he stopped himself.

John froze and stared at him. He didn't dare hope. All his life he'd had to earn these moments of peace and they came at a price. To have them freely given by someone he... It was unthinkable.

"I'm not sure if I did it—"

"You were _perfect_ ," John said, unable to keep the feeling from his voice.

The ghost of a smile formed on Rodney's lips, gone before it was really there.

"Then maybe we could...do this again some time. If you need it."

John stared up at him, unable to speak. Then he stood up. He looked at Rodney for a moment, feeling strange about being at his eye level. He still had no words, so he leaned forward and hesitantly kissed Rodney.

Rodney closed his eyes and pressed his lips against John's.

It wasn't a deep kiss, not passion, not lust. It was a promise. John pulled back and smiled.

Rodney smiled back. Then he turned and, with one more look back, left John alone.

John looked at the door long after he was gone. Then he sat down on the bed and closed his eyes.

Seven of his men had died today. It hadn't been his fault, but he'd still have to live with it.

But now, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see blood. Instead he felt pressure in his throat and the taste of a man that could save him.


End file.
